Gumshoe
by shipper-swabbie
Summary: Finn walks home from night class. FutureFic/AU in NY. Finchel, but mostly Finn centric. Rated for slight swearing and violence. One-shot.


**A/N**: Hey everyone! I posted this on tumblr the other day, but here it is again! A one-shot future/AU with your favourite Glee ship! Heads up though, this is a little out of my comfort zone, so I'd love to hear your feedback! Tell me if it works or not!

**Disclaimer:**It's not mine, Ok? Just calm down.

* * *

><p>There were a lot of things that Finn loved about New York. It was beautiful there, there was always something to do or somewhere to go. Rachel was there, his brother was there.<p>

He had a night class, which he loved. It kept him busy the nights that Rachel had shows and gave him some ideas about what he might like to take on for full-time classes.

But he didn't like walking the streets at night. And honestly, it was _scary_.

When he graduated high school almost three years ago, and Rachel was heading off to NYADA. He decided to take a year or two off, and follow her to the city. Burt knew a guy who know a guy who could get him a job at a tire shop. It worked out because Finn could take a few years, earn some money, and pick out a trade school or something when we was ready.

His mom wasn't crazy about the idea, but when he turned eighteen, he talked to her about saving money for school and for his and Rachel's wedding. Eventually Carole conceded, he was an adult after all, and she decided that he was ready to make his own Big Decisions.

Besides, his mother knew Rachel wouldn't allow Finn to stay out of school for too long.

Night school was good for him; it was a light-workload and inexpensive, and it was only two hours once a week.

The biggest downfall though, were the late night hikes in the heart of NYC. It was only twelve blocks to his and Rachel's apartment from the community centre, but his route was adjacent to a few shady alleys and sketchy streets.

Usually, if Finn ever met someone on route at that time of the night, they'd leave him be and pass him without notice. Finn was a big guy, and even though he didn't have a violent cell in his body, his sheer mass was threatening enough for most.

That night, Finn was alert as always. Everything was quiet and still, as usual, except there was this tiny fellow Finn noticed stooping near one of the particularly shady alleys. Finn noticed him because the little guy seemed jumpy, and at edge. Finn hauled his back-pack up a little higher and hastened his pace.

He could feel, more than hear, that the guy started following him. Finn kept up his pace and watched the little man as best he could with his peripheral vision. Finn hoped he imagined it all, that he was just being paranoid.

Almost two blocks later, the man was still following him. Finn was almost home, and he was not about to lead this sketchy guy straight to his and Rachel's doorstep. He figured he'd try and talk to the man who was following him. Maybe if Finn was friendly and open to him, the guy would leave him alone.

It was probably a stupid move in retrospect.

Finn turned around, maybe too fast, and seen the guy jump back in shock.

Maybe he was being naive, but Finn had never been followed like this before, so he didn't quite know what to expect. Finn thought maybe he'd give the guy some cash, ask the guy if he needed help, or if worse came to worst, he'd threaten to call the police; whatever it took to get the guy off his back. But what Finn _didn't_ expect, was that the little guy would pull out a freaking pocket knife.

The mugger made a move toward Finn, but the bigger man was on this toes and ready. Finn jumped back and to the side.

Finn could distinguish two things about the pocket knife; it didn't look like much but, but that didn't mean it wasn't sharp.

There was a blur of motion, and then pain. Almost a tingle at first, but then a burning, tearing feeling. The mugger cut Finn in the leg.

Finn hissed in pain, and fell to one knee. The tiny guy staggered toward Finn, extending the knife with both hands, trying to look threatening.

If Finn wasn't wincing in pain, he probably would have laughed at his mugger. The little guy was barely taller than Rachel, he was shaking from head to toe, and Finn guessed he _might _have weighed in at a hundred pounds.

As silly as he may have looked standing against Finn, the little guy had a freaking _knife_, so Finn wasn't about to take any chances.

"Gimme your wallet, man, or I'll really stick you."

Something, probably adrenaline, maybe delusion, surged through Finn's blood.

_No._

He was not going to let some scrawny, strung-out, meth-head put the run to him.

Finn set his jaw, and swatted the man's arms to the side. He brought his injured leg up painfully, and kneed his mugger square between the legs. The tiny guy cried out, dropped the knife and cradled his injuries after collapsing to the ground.

_Whoops. So much for not taking chances..._

Finn pushed the knife away with the back of his hand, then grasped his injured leg with both hands. He took a couple ragged breaths and was about to call 911, when the little guy started to wriggle away.

Finn cried after him, "Hey. Hey! Stop!" Finn tried to stand, but it was painful. He scrambled after his would-be mugger on one knee and one hand. Finn tried to grab of hold of the little guy, but the mugger was surprisingly lithe, and clambered away.

As his mugger disappeared into the shadows, Finn was left crouched over the sidewalk with the mugger's left shoe in one hand, and the knife glistening with his own blood about five feet to his right.

He stared in awe at what just happened.

_I stopped a mugger..._

Finn felt a wave of pride and triumph flare up deep in his gut.

_I stopped a mugger!_

He only noticed now that there was a convenience store across the street. Finn could see where a few people were huddled around the windows and hanging out the door, watching the spectacle unfold.

There was only one guy who actually took the time to ask, "Hey, buddy are you OK?" The man kept his distance, but told Finn he called 911 and that the police and an ambulance were on their way. Finn just nodded dumbly.

_I stopped a mugger and got stabbed_.

The tingling and numbing sensations that the adrenaline had conjured, faded away.

_I could have died._

Finn was left with nothing more than a dim understanding of what had just transpired and head-to-toe tremors of fear and realization. The sensation in Finn's belly burned, and turned sour.

_I could have _died_!_

And then he promptly threw up.

The paramedics and police officers showed up together and collectively had Finn on a gurney before he even knew what was happening.

Between the oxygen masks and blood pressure monitors, Finn managed to hand the shoe to a nearby officer. He mumbled something about the knife too, but at that point, he was pretty dizzy and was little out of it.

The officer patted him on the shoulder, and seen him off. Finn watched the scene, now illuminated by flashing lights and half-hidden by small clusters of people, fade into the distance as the ambulance carried him to safety.

The next half hour was a bit of a blur. He didn't pass out, though, until they stuck the needle in him for the IV. And really, who likes getting needles, anyway?

Rachel showed up approximately seven minutes after Finn regained consciousness, in full make-up and costume.

Finn's breath caught in his throat. He could tell that she had been crying already. They shouldn't have called her, this wasn't fair to her. He was fine, she didn't need to leave her show, they didn't need to put her though this! Stupid doctors.

"Hey, baby!"

But _God_, was he ever relieved to see her.

"Oh my, God. Finn, honey are you OK? I'm so sorry! I should have been with you! I should have left you the car, or cab fair. When they called me I just- I so sorry! I walked- no, I ran off the stage I- Oh my _God_, what if he-" She was becoming incoherent, "Oh my, God, Finn, what if-" Then she collapsed against him, sobbing apologies and bunching up on his hospital gown in tiny, trembling fists.

He wrapped his arms around her as best he could, what with the IV attached to one hand and Rachel collapsed over the other, "Hey, shh. It's OK. I'm fine-"

"Finn you were _stabbed_! You're not fine! What if-" She couldn't finish the sentence. "What were you _thinking? _God, Finn-" She buried her face in his chest to muffle her sobs.

He felt his heart clench in his chest, and let her cry. Because honestly, he didn't know how else to comfort her. He was scared, too.

He was scared of what happened and what _could_ have happened. He was scared it might happen again, he was _terrified_it might happen to her.

He set his jaw and instead, stroked her hair, and rocked her slightly.

After a few moments, Rachel's tears subsided to sniffles and whimpers.

"I can promise you one thing, Rach,"

She looked up at him without lifting her cheek off his chest. Her eyes were brimming red from tears and her whole face was blotchy and soggy. He never thought he'd be so happy so see her again, even like this.

"This is the very, _very _last time I walk the streets of New York after six PM."

"Five-thirty." She sniffled in response, "At the latest." She spared him a small, weak smile. He responded with a soft chuckle and kissed the top of her head.

"I kicked that little weasel in balls, though." He said, unprecedented, "_Hard_."

Rachel blinked for a second, but set her gaze in that blind determination Finn loved so much, "Good." She declared with a hiccup, "Because if I ever get my hands in him, I'm going to _castrate _him."

Finn laughed again and hugged her a little closer, "I love you."

"I love you too. So much. Promise me you'll never get mugged again."

He couldn't promise her that. He wished he could, he wanted to, but he couldn't. He kissed the top of her head and rest his cheek there for a moment. She knew he couldn't promise that, too.

He though about it for a moment, and felt a crooked smile creep across his face, "I don't know though, baby. I did pretty good! I basically caught a criminal today," He said with mock bravado, puffing up his chest a bit, "Unarmed!"

"Maybe you should be a police officer..." She muttered into his chest, cuddling in a little closer to him and distractedly carrying on the joke.

Finn thought about that for a moment different kind of smile creep over his face.

_Maybe..._

A few days later, Finn was asked down to the police station six blocks over. He was a little nervous. But really, being recently mugged could set anyone on edge. Finn was pretty sure he didn't do anything wrong the other night. But honestly, he was a little intimidated by cops, anyway.

He showed up ten minutes early and sat awkwardly in an uncomfortable chair, his discomfort only made worse by the eight stitches in his leg.

A dark complexioned man with thick rimmed glasses and warm eyes came toward Finn. Finn hobbled up to his feet as best he could, and tried not to wince too much when his muscles flexed, pulling on his wound.

"Mr. Hudson?" The man asked, looking up from his clipboard.

"Yes, sir, but you can call me Finn. Sir."

The man scoffed in good humour and mumbled, "Follow me," as he stalked off down a hall.

Finn limped after him, after straightening out his button-down shirt.

The older man stopped about eight to ten paces ahead of Finn, and watched as he struggled to keep up.

"First knife wound, kid?"

"Uh, yep. Hopefully my last too, err, sir."

"Kid, do you work for me?"

"Uh, no sir."

"Then cut the 'sir' crap, son. Call me Hanes. Charlie Hanes."

Finn nodded and gave an unsure, crooked smile. Suddenly, the cops didn't seem so intimidating, "Hanes. Are you a detective?"

Hanes smiled, "Sure am, son. Twenty-first year on the force."

"Finn Hudson. Twenty-first year on, uh, Earth."

Hanes let out a real chuckle that time, "Alright Finn, here's what were going to do today: we've got a handful of fellas here that we figure, uh, took a _stab_ at mugging you." Hanes snickered and wiped a tear away under his glasses, "Pardon the pun, son." He said, still chuckling, "Do you think you could pick your guy out of this line up?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

"OK, Finn, remember, you can see these boys, but they can't see you, alright? Nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried, sir. I mean, uh, detective."

Hanes gave Finn a look and flicked a switch nearby. The tinted window that Finn and Hanes stood before lit up and revealed eight men holding numbers and standing side to side against an honest-to-goodness height chart.

Hanes pressed a button attached to a speaker and said, "Number one, please-"

But there was no need. Standing at an unimpressive 5'3'', Finn's mugger stood out in that line-up like a shaking, sweaty, miniature sore thumb.

Finn pat Hanes on the shoulder, and the detective removed his finger off the speaker. He lifted a silent, inquisitive eyebrow at Finn.

"That's him, detective, number three."

"You're sure kid? This will probably go to court."

"I'm sure. I remember because the guy was barely taller than my fiancée!"

Hanes slapped Finn over the shoulder and have a hearty laugh, "I believe you, Finn." He chuckled for a moment before dismissing the officers and the suspects in the other room.

"That kid is Ian O'Hera. He's not much older than you. Got mixed up with drugs, we have him on record for possession and trafficking. Thanks to you, kid, we've got his fingerprints on that knife, your blood on the crouch of his pants, and, strangely enough, a shoe in his size, recovered at the scene. It's an open and shut case. We got this guy." The detective paused for a moment and looked at Finn, who was positively beaming, "How does it feel to have solved your own mugging, son?"

"Feels pretty good, sir!"

"Stop calling me 'sir' kid, you don't work for me, remember?"

Finn muttered an apology, but Hanes all but ignored it, "You know, we could use more people like you on the force, Finn."

"I-"

"Calm down, Hudson, it's not like I'm offering you a job on the spot or anything. Think it over. Talk to that lady of yours, give it some thought."

"Yes sir- err, Detective Hanes."

"Call me Charlie, and remember my name kid," he winked, "I'll put in the good word for ya."

Finn hobbled out of the police station with a huge smile on his face. If he became a police officer, he could really make a difference. He could protect himself, and Rachel and keep stupid people like that O'Hera kid from hurting someone.

For the first time since he moved up there, Finn seen some direction for himself in New York. Finn loved Rachel, there was never any doubt that he'd be with her every step in her career, her _dream_.

But he needed his own dream, too. Something that would make him worthy of standing beside her, always.

Suddenly, New York didn't seem so scary.

* * *

><p><strong><span>AN2:** HI AGAIN! Did you like it? Tell me in the a review! THANK YOU FOR READING!


End file.
